Firestorm - Ellie Masters Page 0,31

date.”

“No strings?” If we get to know each other better there will come a time when I need to walk away.

“If that’s what you want. No strings. We have a little fun while you’re here, work out some of this energy between us and get to know each other. Have a little fun while we’re at it.”

“Fun?”

He arches a brow. “Yeah, fun, but I have questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? What you’ll taste like when I kiss you. How you’ll feel wrapped around my hips. You know, important questions. As for strings, that depends on whether you’re interested in my rope work.”

No need to ask what he means by that. I’m seriously considering it.

Maybe this is what I need to put my past firmly behind me?

A little innocent fling?

Asher seems willing. Not that I’m erasing Justin’s memory, but it’s been over a year.

“Sounds intriguing.”

“So strings? Or no strings?”

“How about a little of both? A clean break at the end?”

Are we negotiating sex? I think we are and I give a sharp shake of my head. I’ve never done something like this before.

I unmute the phone. “Prescott?”

“Yes, Evie?”

“I’m going to give you to a friend and he’ll give you an address to send everything to.”

“Okay. We’re not done talking about this.” Prescott isn’t amused, but he knows better than to push when I get like this.

“I know.” Not wanting to continue that conversation, I hand the phone to Asher, but pull it back and give him a hard stare. “This is an old family friend, behave!”

“Of course.” He takes the phone and puts it to his ear. “Hello?”

9

Evelyn

It’s another five days before the doctors are comfortable enough with my progress to release me. In that time period, I’ve pushed Prescott off from flying out to rescue me no less than twenty times. The number of times I’ve thought about kissing Asher numbers in the thousands.

I cannot get that man out of my head.

Prescott sent my new phone via courier direct to the hospital along with a wallet full of fresh credit cards, a duplicate driver’s license, and the insurance cards I’ll need to break free of this joint.

Asher gave Prescott his home address, but Prescott must have felt uncomfortable sending my things to a stranger. My promise to hold off on that trip to the high Sierras is the only thing keeping Prescott on the East Coast. He threatens to fuel up the jet and whisk me away, but can’t due to my continued hospitalization.

I’m not telling him they’re breaking me out today, and I blocked him from getting updates on my status from the hospital staff three days ago.

Boundaries are necessary, because he’ll steamroll right over my wishes under the guise of doing what’s best for me.

For me, that means not heading back to the place where memories drag me under. I can’t explain this feeling I have, but I’m lighter and happier here.

There’s something about wine country which is helping me move on from the tragedy. Those feelings may, or may not, have something to do with the man sitting at the foot of my bed.

Asher sits cross-legged and looks funny as shit, because he’s a big man and it’s a small bed. A rickety hospital tray table sits between us; a barrier I’m happy to have, because there’s nothing that ties me to the bed, the wall, or the IV poles any longer. I’m free to launch across the bed and claim the kiss I’ve been dreaming about every night and every day for the past two weeks. Instead, I stare at my cards, nibble my lower lip, and push my fantasies to the back of my mind.

Asher is too much of a gentleman to take advantage of me. I’m a little peeved about that. He visits every day, and brought me clothes to wear instead of the hideous hospital gown I’ve been trapped in for two weeks.

He says he came to check on me that first day, and he’s here every day after work to keep me company. Skittish about touching me, his eyes wander to the bandages on my arms and linger on my lips.

I know exactly what he’s thinking. I’m thinking it too, wondering how he’ll taste when he finally kisses me.

As for the bandages on my arms, they’re less bulky now. According to the wound nurse, I shouldn’t need them much longer. The burns are minimal and healing nicely.

“It’s your turn, little backpack.” The low